Grandeur
by kbrand5333
Summary: Expanded version of one of the mini-fics from the "At Year's End" set. Princess Gwen and Blacksmith/Knight Arthur. Smut, by request. AU, one-shot.


"No one followed you?" he asks as she slips quickly and quietly inside his small house, attached to his forge.

"No. Merlin made certain," she says, kissing him.

"Good," Arthur says between kisses. He doesn't question Merlin's loyalty any longer. The princess' bodyguard may _look_ unassuming, but he is the most powerful sorcerer in the five kingdoms. He is also fiercely loyal to his mistress, even above his king. Arthur pulls away and looks down at her. "You're certain you want to do this?"

"Yes, Arthur. I love you. Only you. I will never love another." She reaches up and cups his cheeks in her hands.

"I love you, too, Guinevere, more than anything. But, your father…"

"Will never know."

"Your virtue…" He gazes down at her lovely face, the face he sees so often in his dreams.

"Is mine to give, not my father's. I give it to you, my love." Her fingers trace his lips, and he kisses them. She reaches down and unfastens her cloak.

"I will treasure this gift to my dying day," he whispers, nuzzling her neck, his hands winding around her slender waist, pulling her closer. He notices she is dressed simply, in a rather plain gown (for a princess) with few laces. He groans softly, kissing her neck. "I am sorry my home is not grander for you."

"I don't care about that. Your love has all the grandeur I need," she says. Arthur kisses her deeply, sweeps her into his arms, and carries her the four paces to his narrow bed. He sets her gently on the mattress, kisses her once more, then steps back to pull off his boots. After a thoughtful pause, his shirt follows.

Her hungry gaze on his bare chest is not lost on him, and he stands a little straighter, trying not to preen under her appraisal.

Gwen sits up and reaches behind herself to pull the laces at her back. "Let me," Arthur says, sitting beside her. She moves her hair over one shoulder and he leans down and kisses the exposed skin, where her neck meets her shoulder. Then, he pulls the laces until her bodice is loose, and he kisses her back.

She shivers with pleasure as his lips caress her skin, never imagining her shoulder blades would be so sensitive. His large, calloused hands skim her velvet-soft skin and he gently pushes her dress down, chasing it with his lips. As the dress slips away, he lays her back on the pillows, his eyes drinking in the sight of her, memorizing every curve and freckle.

Because he doesn't know if he'll ever get this chance again.

"You are beauty defined, Guinevere," he whispers, noting how her ebony curls fan out around her head, how her eyes are heavy-lidded with passion, how her full breasts ride her chest proudly, begging for his touch. He reaches out with one hand and caresses a soft mound, drawing a low moan from her full lips.

Arthur, unable to resist, drops his head to kiss her breast. "Mmm, Arthur," she sighs, running her fingers through his silken blonde hair. He lingers over her breast, suckling gently, for another moment. Then, his hand finds her bunched-up dress and continues pushing it lower.

He lifts his head as she lifts her hips and helps him pull the dress completely off. He gazes at her, totally bared to him, all tawny skin and lush curves. "Beautiful," he breathes, unable to form a sentence.

Gwen giggles softly, nervously, and reaches a hand out to his waist. She worms a single finger into the waist of his trousers and tugs lightly, biting her lower lip.

The message is clear: _off._

Arthur quickly obliges, and his trousers are discarded in seconds. Gwen only catches a glimpse of him before he is over her, kissing her hungrily, hands exploring, reveling in the feel of her skin beneath his hands, her body beneath his.

Gwen's hands roam as well, exploring the work-hardened muscles of his shoulders and chest and the firm curve of his buttocks before one slips between them, reaching for and wanting to know all of him.

"Oh," he grunts in surprise when her slender fingers find his shaft and instinctively wrap around it. "Oh, yes," he mutters, kissing a trail to her breasts again.

He closes his lips around a waiting nipple, licking and sucking it, as one of his hands slides down her taut stomach to touch her.

"Ohhh…" she moans as his callused fingers slide between her moist folds. He groans at how wet she is, warm and slick. For _him._

He moves his fingers; she slides her hand on him in response. "Guinevere…"

"Yes, Arthur," she answers his unasked question, her hand wrapped around him.

He asks it nevertheless. "Are you certain, my love? Are you sure you want to cast aside your maidenhood for me? I'm just a lowly blacksmith, after all." His voice is soft, uncertain. He is nestled between her thighs, ready to plunge, but if she says the word, he will stop immediately, without complaint.

"I have never been more certain of anything, Arthur. You are not lowly. You are my heart, my soul, my everything," she answers, touching his cheek.

Arthur's breath catches at the depth of feeling in her words, wishing he had the capacity to respond in kind. Instead, he catches her lips in another searing kiss. "I love you so much, Guinevere. More than I should be allowed to, surely…"

"Shh, Arthur. I want this. I'm not casting aside my maidenhood. I'm giving it, freely and willingly, to the man I love." She kisses him softly. "Make love to me, Arthur," she whispers against his lips.

"As my lady wishes," he whispers back, shifting his weight and allowing her to guide him home.

Guinevere lifts her hips to meet him, gasping slightly as she feels the blunt tip of his manhood slide deliciously against her before pressing into her just slightly.

"Oh…" she moans, enjoying this moment before…

The pain tears through her as he plunges forward, eyes closed, never wishing to bring her pain, but knowing it is inevitable. "I'm sorry," he whispers against her ear, waiting until she is ready.

"It's all right," she whispers, gradually releasing her grip on his shoulders as the pain ebbs away. She threads her fingers into his hair again and turns to kiss his forehead. "Arthur," she whispers, flexing her hips beneath him.

"Mmm," he hums against her neck, kissing it before sliding himself back, slowly, and forward again. "All right?"

"Yes," she breathes, flexing her hips again, encouraging him.

He lifts up over her and begins to move, slowly at first. Carefully.

Guinevere closes her eyes, the initial pain having subsided to a dull ache. Her hands slide on his chest, fingers dancing through the light covering of hair, until the pain has subsided, replaced with warm, tingling pleasure.

She opens her eyes and gazes up at him, watching how his eyes shine in the candlelight, the black of his pupils nearly swallowing the blue of his irises in his passion for her. She reaches one hand up, sliding it up his neck to his cheek, and traces her thumb across his lower lip. He kisses it, then bites it lightly.

Much to her surprise, she giggles. He smiles down at her, kisses her thumb again, and increases his pace, unable to hold back any longer.

"Oh…" she gasps, her head tossing on the pillow.

"Guinev—" he starts, worried he's hurt her. His rhythm falters, then—

"Mmm, _yes_," she moans, lifting her knees higher to allow him to delve deeper.

He groans and regains his pace. He groans _again_ when she wraps her legs around his waist.

"Oh, Guinevere," he gasps, running his hands along her smooth thighs, then under to grasp her backside, firm and pliant under his fingers. "Mmm," he hums appreciatively.

They move in perfect synchronicity, a duet of soft moans and sweet words, each carrying the other to the highest pinnacle.

"Guinevere… I—"

"Oh, Arthur!" her exclamation interrupts what was going to be an apology for not being able to wait any longer, and he lets go, following her release with his own, driving deep and stilling within her. He groans, long and low, and drops carefully over her, his head on her shoulder again.

"Mmm," Gwen sighs, squirming slightly beneath him.

"Am I too heavy?" he asks, starting to move away.

She tightens her arms. "No. Stay here," she says, kissing his head. She inhales deeply. "You took a bath."

"Mmm-hmm. For you." She squirms again and he moves carefully, rolling to the side. He pulls her against his side and she cuddles him immediately, her arm across his chest and her leg slung over his. "It wouldn't have done for me to be all sweaty and dirty from the forge," he says.

"I kind of like you that way," she admits. "It's how I first saw you." She runs her fingers over his chest. "All sweaty, muscles glistening as you crafted that sword for my brother." She lifts her head. "He still uses it, you know. It's his favorite. Says it's the best sword he's ever wielded."

Arthur smiles. "I remember. You came with him to check its progress."

"I happened to be with him, actually, and _he_ decided to pop in and see. He was supposed to be escorting me to choose some silks," she laughs, kissing his shoulder. "You looked up and…"

"You were the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. I remember thinking myself a fool for being so captivated."

"Well, if you were a fool, then I was one as well," she says, smiling and reaching up to touch his cheek. "You have no idea how clever I had to be to arrange to come along with Elyan to pick up his sword when you'd finished it," she says. "He would have never believed I just wanted to spend time with him. And the truth? Well, the truth was out of the question."

He smiles and squeezes her. As they lay together quietly, doubt begins to creep in. "Are we fools?" he asks after a long moment. He knows she wants to be with him as much as he wants to be with her, but there are many seemingly insurmountable obstacles in their way.

"Probably, but let us not dwell on that right now." She lifts her head and looks up at him with a sigh. "I promise you, if my father bids me marry some prince or lord for the good of the kingdom, I will refuse. I am neither a bargaining chip nor a reward."

"You can do that? Refuse?" he asks, interested. He hadn't thought she would have that power.

"I don't know," she says, furrowing her brow. "But even if I _can_'_t_, I _will._" She kisses his jaw. "Father dotes on me, and I'm afraid I take advantage of it sometimes," she giggles.

"Well, for my sake, I pray you are able to refuse," Arthur says quietly, tightening his arms around her and kissing her forehead.

"For both our sakes," Guinevere adds, her voice a whisper.

xXx

"Do you approve of our new home, Husband?" Princess Guinevere of Camelot, now Lady Guinevere of Idirsholas, asks.

"Well, it needs a little work…" Arthur the blacksmith, now Lord Arthur of Idirsholas, answers, smirking at his lovely bride.

"Yes, but that's precisely why Father sent us here. We need to restore this almost-ruin to its former glory so that the villagers have a Lord and Lady to protect them." She walks through the gates, her hand on her husband's arm, still reeling from the whirlwind of the last three months.

Her father wanted to marry her off to King Cenred. She refused, stating Cenred was evil and foul and had a mistress called Morgause who was equally evil and foul.

Then, Cenred was discovered plotting to poison King Thomas. Merlin stopped him, and Arthur was instrumental in aiding Prince Elyan and the Knights of Camelot in apprehending and, ultimately, killing Cenred.

King Thomas wished to reward Arthur, and asked what he desired. "Princess Guinevere," sprung from his lips before he could stop the words, for he truly desired nothing else.

The king had laughed, thinking it all a jest. A disrespectful one, but a jest nevertheless.

Then, his daughter stepped forward and accepted with the words, "I have been yours since the moment we first laid eyes on each other," and boldly took his hand, fixing her father and brother with a look that openly _dared_ them to protest.

Thomas said nothing, taking his leave to his rooms. Guinevere knew he was simply going away to think.

"Honestly, Guinevere…" Elyan had sighed, a surprisingly disappointed-looking Sir Leon at his side.

"Not one word, Elyan, or I shall tell Father about you and the baker's daughter," Gwen cut him off. "You are in no position to pass judgment."

Elyan opened his mouth, closed it, and stalked from the room.

"I should go," Arthur muttered. "I don't know why I said that, Guinevere, I…"

"I know why. And thank you. For everything," she said, kissing him there in the great hall, shocking the few remaining knights and servants.

Thomas gave his blessing the next morning. They were married the following month, and shortly after, sent to Idirsholas to be the new Lord and Lady of the ruined castle.

"It definitely has potential," Arthur declares once they are inside.

"It will be wonderful," Gwen says optimistically.

A sneeze sounds behind them. "It's dusty as hell," Merlin declares.

"You're a wizard; sort it out," Arthur says. The two men have become fast friends, and Merlin was overjoyed to be allowed to accompany them to their new home. "Speaking of which, I bet renovations would go much easier if…"

"No, Arthur," Gwen says. "We can't abuse him like that. Men will be coming tomorrow to begin work."

"Thank you, my lady," Merlin says. "I will, however, see about setting up your rooms. _That_ I will do as my gift to you." He disappears, in search of rooms suitable for the new Lord and Lady.

"At least we'll have someplace to sleep," Arthur shrugs.

"Well, Husband," Gwen says, wrapping her arms around his waist, "what shall we do first?"

He raises an eyebrow at her.

"Perhaps later," she grins. "Once we have a proper bed."

"Something grand, I hope," he grins at her.

"You still have all the grandeur I need," she whispers as he lowers his head for a kiss.


End file.
